


Sleep Easy Wilbur Soot

by Will_not_sleep_Can_not_sleep



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Canonical Character Death, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Family Dynamics, He's just sleeping, Hurt/Comfort, Its not really his fault, Kinda, Other, Ouch, Phil kinda kills Wilbur, Philza is a dad, Spoliers for the second war I guess, Villain Wilbur Soot, What is this arc even called?, Wilbur Soot is Not Okay, again kinda, but he doesnt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:14:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27600101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Will_not_sleep_Can_not_sleep/pseuds/Will_not_sleep_Can_not_sleep
Summary: Wilbur Soot's mind is a buzz with voices that aren't his own and he only wants to stop them.Maybe his father can help with that.------------------------I got very inspired after watching the mess that was todays vods and my little rat mind started thinking of reasons why Wilbur would ask Phil to kill him.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Comments: 17
Kudos: 277





	Sleep Easy Wilbur Soot

The world around him was smoldering. Each breath he took filled his lungs with smoke, dust and gravel; the remnants of what used to be his home, his land, crumbling and falling apart. Great casams created by his explosives shaped the land in horrendous ways, with water rushing to fill the now vacant and expansive scars on the earth. The destruction was great enough that he struggled to piece together what used to be what. It was beautiful.

He had done it.

He blew it up.

His unfinished symphony left to rot.

The ringing in his ears was finally fading as he slipped back into his body, finding his skin wet with tears and his cheeks sore from how large the grin on his face was. His throat hurt from the now polluted air but he paid it no mind as he shakily stood from his collapsed postion in front of the carter that exposed him to his masterpiece. Friends, foes, family, all stood gathered, squawking and sputtering like buffoons at his work. 

Blearily in front of him, stood his father, gaping and coughing at the sight, rough rasps through the smog as he waved his hand fruitlessly. It was gone, it was all gone; his father stating so in a disbelieving tone, his head turning to stare at him, eyes wide with adrenaline. All Wilbur could do was take deep breaths, scanning the terrain as satisfaction filled his system, then relief. It was over.

With another deep breath, he stepped forward, past his father and into the mouth of the crater. “My L’manburg!” Maybe it was how loud he pronounced it but his fathers eyes flew to him in surprise, waiting and watching, “My unfinished symphony! Forever unfinished!” They made eye contact then, as he threw out his hand, gesturing to the chaos, “If I can’t have it, then no one can!” He knew his voice rang clear as several heads turned to him and Phil perched still in their window but he paid them no mind.

Only after his exclamation did he realize something, something that killed his relief in instant, dousing his flame along with it. Those voices, the ones that had been echoing in his head for the past months, they weren’t gone. This destruction, the ruin of L’manburg, this was supposed to take care of them. It was supposed to quiet them, calm the insatiable shouting that never stopped, that never let him think, that never gave him a moment's peace; they were still there. With growing horror he realized that they were louder, and what he thought was ringing in his ears from the explosions was instead them, more collected and cognitive then he ever thought possible.

It was an insane thought, the one that passed through his mind, but maybe, just maybe it would work. With renewed vigor he launched himself closer to his father, pulling out his sword and pushing it into the older man's hands, eye wide, eager and hopeful.

“Kill me Phil,” said man blinked in disbellief and shock, “Phil, kill me, kill me, stab me with that sword, murder me now!” He shouted, gripping the man's shoulders. This could work, he knew what his father was capable of maybe, maybe-!

“You’re my son!” now Wilbur himself blinked, his smile thin on his lips as he stared down at his father, “I’m not going to kill you Wil.” His tone was stern and final, but Wilbur couldn’t allow that, he had to shut them up! They wouldn’t leave- he needed them to leave!

“No matter what you’ve done I-” Wilbur physically shook him, eyes wide and pleading. Phil shakes his head, desperation in his own gaze as he bite his lip and tries to start again but Wilbur interrupts him, softly whimpering-

“Do it, do it-” he released his father then, sinking down onto his knees as his head buzzed aggressively. He looked up to the man, the one that could save him, released him and groveled with his head hung, “Please, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t- they're so loud, dad I can’t!” 

Faintly, just so faintly he could hear the cries and shouts of others, but they were smothered in the thick and unrelenting blanket of noise that berated and clung to him. He wanted them gone, so desperately did he want them gone. Lost to his own mind he never noticed the tears that slipped down his cheeks nor did he see the confusion and pondering that morphed his fathers face. 

“I love you Wil.” His fathers voice sliced through the smothering blanket and he could only stare up in wonder as the voices around him screamed and clawed in protest, yet were so easily pushed aside by his fathers muttered tone, “I’m not going to kill you though-” he only had an second to feel betrayed before the man carried on, “You're going to rest, okay? You're going to rest and sleep for a while Wil.” 

The scene before him filled him with something he couldn’t name. Everything Phil said was filled with confidence and Wilbur was filled too, watching with slow realization that his fathers wings were on full display and that the six sets were curled around the both of them, hiding them from watching eyes. 

He could see the unfallen tears cling to his fathers lashes as the man raised the sword, his sword, in preparation.

“You’re going to be okay Wil. I’m going to take care of things here, okay? I’ll take care of Tommy and Techno and when you're ready, we’ll be here, I’ll be here, with open arms.” Phil stated it softly so only the two of them could hear, even though they were separated from the others by a large casam it was spoken as if anyone could overhear. Wilbur knew, in his very soul, that it would only be them that knew this conversation ever occurred.

He never even got the chance to give his father thanks, to tell him he loved him before the sword had pierced down through his chest. The blade was warm, it glowed akin to hot steel fresh from a fire but didn’t burn and Wilbur felt himself fall away. Away from his body and away from his father who turned away to stare into the disbelieving crowd. He fell through the very earth he once inhabited and then passed it entirely. Into an empty void he sank, one that cradled and held him so gently that he could imagine it was one of Phil’s hugs. There was none of his brother’s expectations to fulfil, there was no nation to lead, there were no people to be paranoid about and there were no voices in his head.

It was quiet.

It was peace.

And Wilbur slept.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've written in years and I cranked it out in an hour, I feel like I can see into the fifth dimension. 
> 
> Feel free to comment any mistakes I might have made, I barely edited this thing.
> 
> Cheers folks


End file.
